


Ogre Sized

by skinnbones



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink, Burping, Entity bullshit, Fat Shaming, M/M, Stuffing, Weight Gain, does he technically vore the entity a lil bit?, fat kink, indigestion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29505210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinnbones/pseuds/skinnbones
Summary: The Entity decides to punish Kazan Yamaoka for his poor performance in an interesting manner. Thus begins the Oni Chunkening.
Relationships: David King/Kazan Yamaoka | The Oni
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

The Oni brings his sword up with a satisfying squelch of flesh tearing in its wake. He raises the edge of the blade close to his face, eyeing up the coat of fresh blood he just painted onto it. With nary an ounce of respect, he kicks the man on the ground onto his side and observes the horrified expression permanently sculpted into his face. The Oni chuckles to himself, in a manner plausibly described as amusedly. Not because the pathetic maggot at his feet entertains him, but because his own performance in this last trial was utterly laughable.

The Entity booms in the distance, its voiceless words hardly vague in intention. Disappointed. Like a parent whose child just failed a science test. The Oni snorts in reply as he wipes his sword off on the fabric of his gauntlet. His track record thus far in the Entity’s realm has been nothing short of impressive, though he has to admit… His recent performance has been lackluster, to put it nicely. It perhaps wouldn’t even be a frustrating fact to him if not for that he doesn’t even know what’s changed recently. His previously-proven strategies haven’t changed, and there’s been no indication that his skills have dulled. His blade was verifiably far from dull. It couldn’t be his fault, but theirs.

The Entity comes to claim the corpse before long. Though he had been tempted by habit to take the man’s tongue as a trophy, it wouldn’t have been worth the effort. There was no doubt in his mind that it would only serve as a mocking reminder of his failure. As always, the Entity’s claws work their magic, and soon enough, the survivor’s body disappears into a cloud of strange fog. Though, the Entity’s presence doesn’t leave with it. Instead, the black claws creep towards him. The worst flashes through his mind. Removal. Dishonorable discharge.

His body’s instinct is to get away, to run, but whether by supernatural influence or due to his pride, he’s stuck in place as the Entity’s tendrils wrap around him. There’s a sharp pain in his abdomen. A claw stuck in his belly, piercing into the depths of his guts, though it draws no blood. Then, a second later, it’s gone. His hands reach for the Entity’s claws, but he finds nothing. Black smoke rises up into the air. With a huff, it clears, and then the Oni finds hismelf alone again. The moment is short, so brief that he almost doubts it even happened, but there’s a strange feeling in his stomach and a throbbing in his head that leaves him absolutely sure that it had happened.

With nothing left to do but ponder and wait, the Oni seathes his sword and lets out a frustrated grunt. The Entity’s mysterious ways are understood by no one, especially not him. He’s never been one for questioning higher powers. All he needs to know is that they favor him, for one reason or another. The shrine is deathly quiet as he sulks back to the top of the Yamaoka shrine. Same as always, he sits in Seiza style before a statue dedicated to his ancestors. 

Then, there’s an odd sound. His ears perk up and his muscles tense. Pop. Not a loud one, but definitely there. Like a bubble. He raises to his feet and twists around, confused as to what the Entity wanted now. It takes him a few moments to even realize where the source of the sound was. There, a few meters away, is a singular orb of blood, lazily floating a foot above the ground. The Oni narrows his eyes as he steps closer. It seems… normal. Besides its context, it seems completely identical to the same blood orbs that appear in trials. 

A blood orb is merely a vessel for the Entity’s power, a tiny reward for his successful bloodshed. He considers the possibilities for a moment, but there’s only one conclusion he can find. Surely, the Entity must be helping him to prepare for the upcoming trials. More blood orbs can only help him. The Oni is eager to gain an edge, no matter how slight, so he does as he always does and reaches forward for the orb. It’s drawn to him as though magnetically attracted. As soon as it touches his fingertips, a surge of power flows through him, starting from his arm and radiating all the way down to his feet. It feels wonderful. Intoxicatingly so. Almost too good. Perhaps he had always been too lost in the thrill of the chase to notice this pleasant sensation. 

As if responding to his thoughts, another few blood orbs pop into existence before his eyes. This time, he has no hesitation before grabbing them. They flood him with ecstatic strength again, just as intensely as the first one. His arms twitch and flex. An electrical current runs through his muscles, one which stimulates involuntary movements. It urges him to move, to swing with inhuman force, but there’s no target for his violence. Instead, he swallows the feeling down, and the cycle repeats when another bundle of blood orbs appears.

The passage of time is lost on him as he continues absorbing the exponentially increasing amount of blood orbs, though he fails to realize their sudden abundance. The now constant flow of blood orbs into him is staggering in the worst way. It’s an overwhelming sensation that makes him feel like he’s going to explode from the inside. His muscles bulge out as if growing by the second. His fingers are impossibly tense, digging into the flesh of his hand with his sharp nails. Just as soon as he feels so incredibly filled to the brim that his head’s going to pop like a bubble, he feels a shift inside of him. First, it feels like an implosion. A localized black hole deep with his belly, but then… It lurches out. Without the flow of blood orbs even slowing, the Oni’s body expands. His normally flat stomach, a beautiful set of six-pack abs, slowly begins to thicken. At first, it pushes out his muscles and makes him merely look more muscular, and it feels him with elation. Just as he had thought, the Entity seems to be pumping more muscle into him, only making him more capable. But then it keeps going. More and more blood orbs flow into him, and then the first ounce of softness appears on his frame. A thin layer of flab appears over his belly, completely masking his abs.

No matter. He’s been more on the thicker side of things before. Many times, a feast-filled winter has left him with a bit of a gut, though he always turns it into nothing but muscle before long. True strength can not be gained without a voracious appetite. Though this thought comforts him for a second, his satisfaction quickly turns to panic as his gut surges forward again, this time making him look far more like a pot-bellied drunkard than simply a sturdy warrior. His hand falls down to the side of his stomach, with his fingers digging deep into the blob of fat hanging off his midsection. It feels so foreign to have so much softness on his body. A twinge of shame shoots through him. Memories of men he’s mocked move through his mind. Royals who do nothing but eat and sleep, pathetically docile and round. 

Thankfully, the growth of his belly slows, though the sound of his leather garments straining prevents any sigh of relief from escaping his lips. His armor begins to feel tighter as his arms and legs thicken up with both meat and fat. His chest juts forward, though thankfully it remains hard with muscle. Worst of all, though, is how he can feel his rear fatten up. Never before has he felt his ass wobble as he moves. It infuriates him to see himself grow into a pig, to lose the physique he’s trained so hard for. It’s emasculating, even. In his eyes, only a woman should have… curves.

“Stop! No more!” He snarls and thrashes mindlessly at the flow of blood orbs. Though they don’t go away immediately, the wave of blood orbs slowly trickles out until it fades to nothing. He’s glad that the Entity seems to at least respect his wishes. Huffing with a mixture of rage and exhaustion, the Oni stumbles forward until he hits the wall, at which point he slides down onto the ground and brings both of his hands to his stomach.

Fat. Nothing but fat meets the eye.

He hefts his gut up and down, disgusted by the way it jiggles profusely. He can even see the last few blood orbs in his system slowly digest and turn into more lard on his waist. That delicious feeling from earlier starts to disappear, and before long, the high is completely gone. All he can do is let out a long, deep, wet belch into the still air. His fingers trace the curve of his belly, dropping down to his plump thighs, and then all the way to the side of his rear end. The fabric of his clothes is straining at every seam. His armor hangs off him like comical jewelry. In the blink of an eye, the Entity has added a hundred pounds to his frame. The muscle mass he gained from the ordeal hardly seems to offset the new-found weight blanketing him. 

It pisses him off. This has to be a sick joke. If a villager were to see him coming, they would cower not because he looked like a honed samurai, but because he looked like an ogre who merely wanted to fill his belly with human flesh. A step closer to becoming a true Oni. His claws rake at the sides of his stomach. How much more would the Entity change him? Take away from him? It made him sick to think about, but… It excites him at the same time. 

He’s given little time to consider this prospect further, as the fog begins to thicken, and he knows damn well what that means. Survivors are encroaching on his turf again. His hand reaches for his katana, knowing that he must still fulfill his role despite the circumstances. As they all have learned, there are certain punishments for refusing to play along, ones much worse than whatever he just went through. All it takes is a single glance at some of the killers to understand the extent of the Entity’s torture.

Despite his new-found girth, the Oni pulls himself together and gets to hunting down the survivors. It shouldn’t be hard, given how he knows the shrine like the back of his hand, but there’s a growing dread in the back of his head. Surely, his body wouldn’t get in the way of all his years of experience and training, but the sudden shift in weight makes it hard for him to move in the same way. His movements are slower, clumsier, broader, more so out of sheer unfamiliarity with his size. 

“Wow,” says a gruff voice. Distinctly female. The annoying cocky one. “What the hell happened?”

Though the Oni doesn’t know her name, he knows her face well. He’s savored tearing out her tongue many times before. The girl with the strange short hair and the hat. She’s standing on the other side of a junk barrier with a grimy flashlight dangling from her fingers. His fist clenches around the handle of his sword. It becomes increasingly apparent that his sudden shift in appearance is amusing the survivors rather than intimidating them. Whether they’re laughing at how his gut is hanging over his belt, or whether they’re laughing at the strange circumstance, it doesn’t matter. They’re still laughing either way, and that’s enough to light a fire in his belly.

He takes a heavy step forward, causing the bean-pole girl to start running. Of course, not in a frightened manner like the boy with thick glasses, but in an intentional manner. He curses his luck. This might not have been a miserable trial if he had only managed to run into the scaredy cats of their tribe, but of course, the escape artists of the bunch are here to capitalize on his new biggest weakness. The Oni starts after the girl, intent on plunging his blade into her back and savoring the smell of fresh blood, but as she dives through thin cracks in walls and leaps through windows, it’s quickly becoming hopeless.

Navigating over tight vaults and dodging around cluttered junk is significantly harder than it used to be. His belly bumps against things and keeps him from following her through choke-points. Plump thighs make it harder to step through broken windows. In a fit of rage, he manages to punch a hole through a brick wall. His arm almost gets stuck, but with a deft kick, the whole thing comes crumbling down.

“Jesus, dude.” The girl chuckles to herself. “Do I smell like cake or something?”

Let me show you what I do to people who make fun of me.

He would have said it out loud if they spoke the same language, but he knows his threats fall on deaf ears. Instead, he speaks the universal language of violence by lunging forward and swinging his blade at her head, but she manages to duck under it at the last second and dash to the side. 

“Nice try!” She clicks her little flashlight, and something snaps in the Oni’s mind. No more games. It’s time for this maggot to get crushed under his boot.

His fingers twitch as he feels the rage building inside of him. He takes the kanabo from his back and bats it against his other hand to show the girl what’s in store for her. She takes it as a hint to get the hell out of dodge, and she disappears behind a wall before the Oni can take another step. He takes a moment to compose himself before taking those first few lunges, building up speed into a full-on sprint. It’s strange and clumsy, with his weight bouncing up and down as he runs. The way his flab wobbles violently is disorientating, but it doesn’t stop him from weaving past the piles of junk between him and his prey.

“Out of the way, Dwight!” The girl shouts as she turns another corner. The Oni doesn’t pay it any mind, choosing to barrel forward as fast as he can. He can feel the fatigue getting to him. There wasn’t much time left before he would have to take a breather, but his burning lungs steel themselves for just a little more torture. Though his impressive muscles can get him to the same speeds, the added weight of his fat makes it all the more laborious.

“Huh?”

It’s like a semi truck hitting a smart car as the Oni turns the corner and collides with the glasses-wearing worm. The man is hit in the face by the Oni’s expansive belly, getting dragged forward by the killer’s momentum. His little body trips the Oni up, causing them both to unceremoniously tumble to the ground. The silent night is pierced by the Oni’s enraged roar, as well as a cringe-worthy clattering of body parts and metal hitting the ground.

There’s muffled screaming from beneath him, but the Oni takes his sweet time getting back up. He slams his fists into the dirt, pressing his upper body up off the ground just enough for his lungs to get the oxygen they need. He hardly even feels the flailing man beneath him, as his Entity-given lard cushions the pathetic attempts at struggling that the survivor tries.

The girl is getting away. She disappears into a wooden shack. The Oni feels a surge of anger spur him into action. With a visible determination, he throws himself back onto his feet and stomps on after the catty survivor, his kanabo weighing heavy in his hands. The flickering lights in the distance turn solid as the rest of the girl’s team finishes repairing the generators scattered around the shrine. At this point, he didn’t even care about the results of the trial. He merely wanted that girl’s blood spilled. 

Unfortunately, the girl shows him around that wooden shack long enough that he wants to tear his eyes out in frustration. No amount of anger can stop the survivor from slipping in and out and everywhere and anywhere and dropping wood on his head and jumping over junk and all of that infuriating shit. It all culminates in her clicking her obnoxious flashlight over and over as the Entity hands her that damn hatch on a silver platter. With her middle finger stuck out, she falls backwards into the black fog and disappears. The hatch lid slams shut with a resounding clang.

And then it’s over, just like that. He’s failed the Entity again, and just like last time, the Entity’s whispers fill his ears. What did you expect? The Oni grits his teeth together. He’s learned the hard way not to show malice towards the Entity, but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hide his anger. Surely the Entity would have known this would have been the outcome of fattening him up like a pig doomed for slaughter.

A little popping sound. Another blood orb. Just one, floating ominously.

Before he can even think, something takes hold of him and he reaches his arm out. Whether it’s pure instinct, or something more insidious, he can’t stop himself from absorbing the blood orb, and thus, the same unstoppable tide of them as last time. Immediately, he feels his belly gurgling in protest. His body is hesitant to accept so much power again, but it has no choice but to accept it. Though there’s an overwhelming dread hanging over him of what’s to come from this, the Oni is able to forget about the consequences in the moment as the pleasant surge of strength pours into him. It’s like a drug, numbing his mind with pure chemical bliss.

He almost doesn’t notice the way his gut starts to warp and expand. It happens much quicker than last time. Layer after layer of flab appears on his bloated belly, It pulls him off balance as the weight accumulates on him, though a sudden surge of muscle in his arms and legs helps him keep upright. His biceps are visibly more ripped than they used to be, but that’s about the only impressive muscle left on him. Every part of him is covered in a healthy coating of wobbly fat, though none of it is as impressive as the truly monstrous gut he’s developed. It even puts the Clown to shame. Each blood orb that flows into him sends a ripple through the ocean of softness.

Eventually, the Oni gives up and sinks down to the ground with his gut hanging between his meaty thighs. At least the new cushioning on his rear leaves him with a plenty comfortable seat, despite the hard wood he’s sitting on. He’s not even sure how long it is before the flow of blood orbs stops, as all he can do is groan in discomfort and rub the sides of his belly. It looks like he swallowed a couple beach balls with how round and distended his gut is. A burp escapes his lips, though it hardly does anything to ease the pressure in his stomach. It feels as though a stockpile of blood orbs is stored deep within his belly. Whether they’ll be used for power or for pudge, only time will tell.

The Oni nods his head back and sighs. Resigned to his fat, he waits and waits for the Entity to signal another trial. It never comes. No fog, no sounds, nothing. Instead, there’s another popping sound, and the Oni fears another onslaught of blood orbs, but no. A single piece of parchment appears out of nowhere and floats down onto the top of the Oni’s belly. He takes it gingerly, like it’ll explode or something. It appears to just be a letter, thankfully written in a script he can understand. He scans the writing, hoping to find answers for all of this, but...

It’s just a diet plan.

This is gonna take a while.


	2. David's Daring Diplomatic Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Oni's attempt at losing weight is sabotaged by some scheming survivors. Horny things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is significantly more kinky than before so, like, mind the tags and head out if this ain't your thing.
> 
> No regret. Only horny. Accept Fat Oni as your new king.

The Oni lets out a frustrated growl as he lowers himself to the ground, his arms shaking and legs quivering. Of course, his belly hits the floor first, spreading out to the sides like a ball of jelly as he falls down in a push-up position. He's been ruthlessly training for an indeterminately long time. There's no real way to tell how long it's been in the Entity's realm, given how ethereal and detached from reality it is, but it sure has felt like a few eternities worth of working out.

The Oni's whole body is soaked with sweat from the last few minutes of sit-ups and push-ups and the like. Admittedly, his sit-ups were more like half-hearted crunches, but there's only so much he can do with that massive gut in the way all the time. And that's not even mentioning cardio, which he has tried to avoid as much as possible. That was the thing that felt the hardest and also pissed him off the most. The feeling of all his blubber shaking as he runs is incredibly distracting, to say the least.

But, with all that said, the Oni pulls himself up off the ground and inspects his body again. Though it is still very, _very_ far from his original toned bod, he takes pride in the fact that he has indeed managed to lose some pounds over the course of all his feverish exercising. He gives his gut a slap to the side, noting how its girth has changed. If he leans forward a bit, he can even see the tops of his toes poking out from behind the curve of his pot belly. Not bad.

As if responding to this success, the Entity booms in the distance. It's been quite a while since he has heard the thrall of the Entity, and sure enough, the fog creeps close. It whispers into his ears and tickles his brain, a very strange sensation he had forgotten about. Another trial is nearing. An opportunity to prove himself, finally. That last trial he went through has haunted his thoughts ever since. This time, he has made sure that he will not make a fool of himself again. He's learned how to move his much bigger body, not quite as deftly as before, but well enough as to not literally fall short of expectations. No amount of cocky survivors with flashlights can faze him now. Perhaps this is what the Entity intended with this chain of events, to teach him some needed mental fortitude. Though his emotions can be his strength, too often were they also his downfall. Hopefully, he can keep a level head when he's actually _in_ the trial.

Sure enough, the distant thrum of the world rearranging itself surrounds the Oni, and the thickening fog momentarily blinds him. The game is beginning. His heart pounds in his chest, partly out of excitement and partly because he's still a little winded from all the working out he had just finished doing. That's not to say that he is too exhausted to fight, though. Far from it. The adrenaline already pumping into his bloodstream gives him plenty of energy to step forth and start looking for his first victim.

The shrine is eerily still, though. Though the typical hallmarks of a trial are in place, thus telling him that he’s not mistaken about the trial having started, there’s no hint of anyone nearby. No generators have been worked on, and no traces of a survivor having passed by. It’s a frustrating development, but he at least takes the opportunity to stop for a moment and catch his breath. He’s done at least a few quick laps around the entire area. Those survivors must be plotting together somewhere. Probably hiding like rats in a corner somewhere.

“Oi, you fat fuck! Over here!”

Without even a thought, the Oni lunges to the side and swings his sword at the source of the sound. Luckily, David King manages to duck out of the way just in time, though the tip of the blade certainly shaved off a few beard hairs from his throat.

“Whoa, wait! Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean it like that!” He’s holding cakes. The Oni briefly pauses, contemplating whether he should just kill the man here and now. There’s nowhere for the survivor to run, so he would be an easy down. His fingers twitch around the handle of his sword, but he stills his arm and glares down at the apparent offerings that David has brought him.

“Look, mate… We’ve got an offer for you. No killing us, and you get these.” He shows off the two cakes he’s cradling in his arm. Frosting is smeared onto his jacket from lumbering around with two towering cakes. “And there’s two more where that came from.”

“What do I look like to you?” The Oni snorts, though David obviously doesn’t understand the language. It quickly becomes apparent to both of them that verbal communication is going to be incredibly fruitless, but that doesn’t stop the survivor from running his mouth off some more.

David nervously nods and continues, only able to guess what the demon had just said to him. “Well, uh, I mean, it’s hard not to notice… So, well, we thought you would like some. I don’t think your kind gets too many of these, eh?”

Are they all in on this? Was this what they were planning? What’s their angle, then? Fatten him up until he can’t move? Or is this simply a benign gesture of good will? A billion more questions flood into his mind. Survivors have begged for their lives before, but there’s never been such a formal attempt at diplomacy before. Surely, the Entity won’t approve of this. He himself doesn’t approve of this. But, that being said… It does look like some rather good cake. He’s always been curious as to what it tastes like, having watched some of the more hedonistic survivors partake in its sweetness before throwing the rest into the Entity’s void. The sleazy man with the sunglasses seems to be taking more than his share of it, based on the slowly growing pot belly he’s been sporting the last few times the Oni saw him, so surely there must be some draw to this dessert.

“Very well. Hand it over.” The Oni grunts. David, of course, doesn’t get it, but the gesture of the Oni slamming his blade into the dirt gets the message across. The hulking man holds his clawed hand out. Very gingerly, David hands an entire cake platter over. This is hardly the place for table manners, so the Oni lets out a sigh as he shoves his fingers into the sugary frosting and pulls a rather large chunk of the cake out. His ears feel like they’re burning with shame, what with acting so slobbishly in front of one the very survivors he sought to slaughter, but he fights through the feeling and instead focuses on the decadence that meets his tongue. He practically slides the entire hunk of cake into his mouth at once, letting bits and pieces of icing drop as he gnashes it apart. Immediately, the saccharine sweetness spreads throughout his whole mouth, overwhelming his taste buds to the extreme. It’s been so long since he’s had sweet food, let alone _any_ food. Before he can even swallow the first bite, he’s got another huge chunk in his fist, and it’s already in his mouth by the time the last mouthful lands in his gut.

“Damn, uh…” David swallows hard, his jaw hanging open a little bit. “You think you oughta slow it down a little bit there, mate? It’s not gonna sprout legs ‘n run away any time soon.”

The Oni doesn’t even have time to tell the maggot to shut up or suffer the consequences, but he still tries to growl out some incomprehensible snarl through his sugar-soaked mouthful of cake. Once he’s done the third bite, the first cake is already gone. It shocks him for just a split second, with his spare hand reaching up to rub the top of his already partially bloated stomach. There isn’t enough pressure in his belly to worry about yet, so he reaches out for the second one David brought him and goes to town on it the same way he did the first. At this point, he’s completely forgotten about his task at hand, and also the fact that he was supposed to be on a diet of sorts. The thrall of sugar and calories is just too much. His body craves it so carnally. The soothing sensation of the blood orbs from before had been nice enough, but it never satisfied him. This, however, is the definition of filling a void. For too long has his stomach been completely empty. It took a long time for the hunger pains to fade away, but now, his stomach is eagerly growling for more and more. 

By the time he’s done the second cake, David inches closer with two more cakes in hand. The Oni hadn’t noticed the man’s brief absence at all. As he takes hold of the third cake, a rumbling stops him for a moment. At first, it confuses him, but as it bubbles up in the pit of his stomach, he smiles to himself. How could he have forgotten how such a simple biological function feels? With an unnecessary amount of bravado, he thumps his chest and lets out a long and loud burp. Pretty much right in David’s face, though that wasn’t entirely intentional.

“Whoa there, mate…” David’s eyebrows shoot up. He bites his lip and shifts his stance awkwardly. The Oni looks up from his cake to gruffly look the man up and down. David tenses up when he realizes he’s being watched, though his movement only makes the tent in his pants all the more visible. The Oni chuckles at this. It’s amusing. These survivors certainly are strange in their own right. He doesn’t even entertain the thought of giving them what they want, though. They are simply undeserving of using him as some kind of sex object. That doesn’t mean he’s gonna stop enjoying himself, however. David can look as much as he wants, as long as he keeps supplying the cakes.

The pause in action causes the Oni to momentarily realize how full his gut is beginning to get, but he simply puts the thought into the back of his mind and continues chowing down on fistfuls of cake. The portion sizes shrink a bit as his body urges him to slow down, but he keeps his pace constant. David’s frozen at his side the whole time, seemingly transfixed by the _lovely_ experience. The smell of sugar and vanilla in the air. The sight of his bloated beast eating more than his fill. The sound of heavy breathing over top vigorous gnashing teeth. Even the feeling of plush fat as David tempts fate and runs his hand across the Oni’s rather plump love handles. The killer either doesn’t notice the touch, or he simply doesn’t care, but either way, David’s teeth are almost drawing blood from his lips due to how much excitement he’s holding back. The Oni, of course, has no way of knowing the extent of David’s desire, but if one were to look inside the Brit’s mind, all they would see is the image of David King riding that demon’s massive gut and forcing more cake in between those jaws.

He doesn’t do anything of the sort, though. This is the closest he’s ever gotten to a killer, figuratively speaking, and even a hard-headed thug like him knows when not to tempt fate. Fate sure is a good seductress, though. He can’t help but slide the fourth and final cake right up close to the Oni’s face as soon as the last bite of the third cake is gone. By this time, the Oni’s belly is noticeably distended and taut. The previous soft, gelatinous form of his fat is hardened by a stiff lump where his stomach is. The Oni rubs the tightness with his icing-coated hand, getting the frosting smeared across his skin and body hair.

_What I would give to lick that off._ David’s gaze traces the curve of the Oni’s impressive gut. God damn. His stiffy from earlier has become a completely rock-hard boner, to the point of distracting discomfort. The Oni grabs cake from the plate with one hand and soothes his busy belly with the other, and while David holds the plate up for the demon, he reaches his own free hand down to adjust his cock. It takes a whole lot of willpower not to start jerking it here and now, but based on what he knows of the Oni, that would definitely be pushing it too far. Maybe. Who knows. But he sure as fuck isn’t gonna risk ruining this moment. He can jack off later with this scene replaying in his mind over and over. The Oni also has a bit of heat going on down south, with a bit of a semi hard-on tenting his tight pants, but neither of them notice, since all the action’s going on up top.

With half of the last cake remaining, the Oni lets out another sickly burp and leans his head back. He’d gotten through most of it through a head-first can-do attitude, but this last cake is proving to be… difficult. His stomach feels ready to pop from how much thick mush is shoved into it. Not to mention that he doesn’t even have anything to wash down the sticky sugar clinging to his throat, though pouring a bunch of liquid into his already packed-full gut sounds like it would only make it worse. He lowers both hands down to his midsection, tenderly rubbing it in circles. Any jiggliness that was once there has been replaced by the unmovable heavy ball of his over-fed stomach. While he had looked huge before, anyone passing by would probably think he’s pregnant with triplets. He would probably feel ashamed of himself if his mind wasn’t clouded with a numbing mix of lust, hunger, and food coma. His stomach is sapping all of his energy as it very desperately attempts to start digesting the metric ton of cake in him.

Even though he stopped himself, the cake doesn’t stop coming. David’s own calloused hands bring up more sugary sweetness to his face. The Oni isn’t one to complain about a helping hand right now, so he just opens his jaw wide and lets his tongue loll out a bit as David slides in piece after piece of Escape Cake into him.

Just as the Oni swallows the last bite of cake down, the generators pop in the distance. That last mouthful takes an awfully long time to travel down his throat, and once it drops into his stomach, his belly makes a disturbing gurgle. He clutches the side of it and brings a fist to his mouth, but nothing comes up, thankfully. All of that cake stays in his stomach, no matter how painfully tight everything is. It feels a little hard for him to breathe right, with the immense pressure against his ribs from all that food.

Slowly, though, his sugar-induced daze clears, and he realizes where he is. He’s sitting against a creaky wooden wall, with David hovering by his side with a goofy expression stuck on his face. Globs of icing and plenty of crumbs litter the expanse of the gut that’s hanging between his legs. He brushes some of it off and lets out a series of weak hiccups and burps. Something tells him that if he were to even try to stand up, something much worse than a bit of gas would come up, so he just leans his head against the wall and groans.

“So, uh…” David flexes his fingers in and out a few times before clasping them together in an uncharacteristically polite manner. “We good then, mate? Truce? Dunno when I’ll see you again, but uh…Aw, fuck, you can’t understand a lick of the Queen’s word, can ya?”

The Oni just woozily burps in response. No, not a single word.

David takes that as a hint to start heading out, so he takes a few shaky steps back, desperately taking in as much of this sight as he can before turning away. He almost trips over a few rocks before he finally gives in and turns away. It’s been a while since the Oni’s been in a trial, and honestly, they both are pretty sure it’s gonna be another long while. Maybe. Who knows? The Entity has mysterious ways, and this entire encounter certainly logs as strange from any perspective. The Oni grits his teeth together as he closes his eyes and waits for the familiar feeling of creeping fog to surround him. It takes what feels like an eternity before it happens. Sitting with his upset gut is torturous, so when the fog wisps around him, it’s a joy to be sure.

The thing is… Strange actions bring strange consequences. As the Entity works its magic and alters the realm in preparation for the next random trial, the cake in his belly is also changed. It starts slowly, with an odd bubbly sensation like a case of gnarly heartburn, but then he starts burping up little bits of dark smoke. Is the Entity… inside him? Is that possible? The pressure in his stomach starts to ease up, though it doesn’t seem as if all that food disappeared or anything. He still feels the same weight deep in his middle, but it’s being transformed, like digestion sped up by a million times through supernatural means. Whatever the hell’s going on, the Oni simply decides to let it run its course. The Entity is probably just unhappy that he took all the cakes that were meant for sacrificing.

_Glorp._

It’s a very startling sound, loud enough to make his eyes shoot open in a panic. It definitely came from inside of him, strangely. He looks down at his busy gut, which is softly wobbling from side to side due to the motions of whatever the Entity is doing to the contents of his stomach. He stares at it intently for a moment before a thought occurs to him. Is his stomach bigger than before…? Surely not. After all those sit-ups he did, hours and hours and hours of training, he had managed to slim down a considerable amount. He knew for a fact. He took informal measurements of himself to prove it. But… The belly sitting in his lap seems bigger. Wider. Sure, he just binged incredibly hard on some desserts, but that wouldn’t make sure a big difference so quickly. He goes to poke it, but just before he touches his gut-

_Glorp_.

Right before his eyes, his belly surges outwards with another thick layer of pudge. It jiggles profusely from the sudden jerk, and then, there’s one more big pop, and then his stomach finally settles down. It’s not quite over yet, though, as pressure starts building up just below his chest. He tries to keep it down, afraid of whatever is happening in his insides, but whatever is in there clearly wants out. He opens up his throat, and a long, rattling burp forces its way out of him. A sizable cloud of that dark smoke flies out of him, alongside a fair amount of spit and gas.

The Oni’s hands shoot to his now enlarged gut and heft its weight up and down a few times. By the Gods, he’s even fatter than he was before all that training! This time, though, his belly seems less like jello and more solid. Sure, it still jiggles profusely with the slightest poke, but the layers of fat deep in his belly are a lot thicker and set than last time. It maintains its ball shape more, rather than hanging off of him like a balloon filled with water.

Ever so slowly, he pushes himself up off the ground, and the first thing he notices when he’s stranding upright is that his plush sides now stick out against his arms when he stands with them at his sides. Looking over his shoulder, he can see how skin-tight his pants are against his much thicker ass. His armor has been long forgotten ever since his first weight gain, but now… It only takes a few shaky steps before the fabric of his pants completely rip apart. He lets out a frustrated growl and leans down to pick up the scraps, though that in of itself almost results in him toppling over.

Though he’s not particularly ashamed of his private parts, any respectable man knows that he can’t go around flashing everyone around him, especially not those lowly survivors, so he begrudgingly fashions a primitive loincloth out of the torn cloth. He ties it around his waist, and it’s just enough to cover his dick and balls. Not that he can really see his cock with his massive gut hanging over it, but still. His cheeks are sort of hanging out for anyone to see, but that’s not atypical of the fundoshi-style undergarment he tried to make it resemble. 

Once he manages to calm himself down, he takes another long look at himself. His new appearance reminds him of the old paintings his parents showed him while growing up. The oni that were depicted varied greatly in appearance, but there was one kind in particular that he resembled now. The one with a distended, round gut, with scant clothing to hide their privates. With his intense temper and his kanabo, truly, he’s a spitting image of these traditional demons. 

Is that what the Entity wanted all along?

… If it is, does that mean he’s going to be fat forever?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a certain picture. You know who you are. ;)


End file.
